Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I've had this thought in the back of my head since season 1 of The Pitt and those fucking parallel rooftop scenes between Robby and Jack.
The overall parallelism between the two of them is enough to make me want to scream, and if we were talking about any sort of ancient tragedy, they would 100% be coded as character mirrors. Now, obviously The Pitt is a modern medical drama and not something written for a bunch of Greeks to perform in front of an audience. HOWEVER, Robby and Jack are 100% exactly that.
We all know that Euripides is like… the OG "but what if they were lovers" fanfic author. I mean, the man took one look at the Oresteia and said "yeah, OK, but Orestes and Pylades were definitively banging when they weren't being emotionally tortured". BUT, I'm not trying to say that Jack and Robby are Orestes and Pylades.
because they are clearly Heracles and Theseus.
Euripides re-imagined the myth of Heracles in a wild way that I'm not going to analyze too much here, but it is important to note that he switches the order of events. Rather than Heracles undertaking the 12 Labors in order to atone for the sin of having killed his wife and children, Euripides writes it so that those Labors are what keep Heracles from taking his rightful place as the ruler of Thebes, allowing Lycus to take control of the city.
The last of Heracles' 12 Labors is to descend into the Underworld and bring back Cerberus. While he's there, he encounters Theseus and Pirithous held prisoner. Heracles bargains for Theseus' freedom (but can't secure Pirithous'), and Theseus is able to return to the world of the living. This is very important to this ramble.
Now, when Heracles returns home to Thebes, he discovers that Lycus is about to kill his family, and Heracles instead comes up with a plan to kill Lycus, which he does. Unfortunately, that ultimately marks the official end of his 12 Labors, which were the only thing keeping Hera from seeking revenge for Zeus having fucked his mom (Hera is the WORST, guys. Like, take out your anger on the guy who did the fucking, not the kid!). She sends Iris and Madness down and they curse Heracles. Heracles kills his own family as a result of this.
NOW, while Heracles is a hot mess (rightfully so, having just slaughtered his wife and sons), he decides the only thing he can do from there is to kill himself, too. ENTER THESEUS.
Theseus rolls up to Thebes from Athens while Heracles is so deep in mourning that he's covering his face and refusing to let anybody look at him for fear of that action alone bringing shame and spreading the stain of having murdered his family on whoever sees him. Theseus is having none of that and orders Heracles to remove his covering. Then, when Heracles confesses his plan to kill himself, Theseus rebuts him by basically saying "nonsense and poppycock; just come live in Athens with me instead" and Heracles is all "but you'll also be stained with the sin of what I have committed here" and Theseus responds with what boils down to "who the fuck cares? I've had awful days, too, and you were there for me during them, so now I'm going to be here for you during your lowest point".
So this is why I think Robby and Jack are Heracles and Theseus coded. Now, it would be easy to think that Jack is Heracles in this scenario because he's the big strong warrior of the two of them, but we also have to acknowledge that Theseus is a warrior in his own right, AND is arguably the cockier of the two (I mean, he's fucking smart and he knows it AND he can fight). Jack is 100% Theseus and Robby is Heracles (emotionally stunted, completely tortured, completes impossible tasks on the daily for people who just want to watch him break).
Jack is up on the roof at the start of episode 1, and it's pretty neatly laid out that it isn't the first time Robby has found him up there, meaning Robby's probably talked him back off the ledge a few times. We also know that Jack is a widower, and given the closeness of their friendship (coughrelationshipcough), it's highly likely that Robby was there for him during that part of his life. It's not even out of the realm of possibility that Robby knew Jack before and after losing the leg, and helped support him through that, too. This is Jack's metaphoric moment (moments) of being a living soul trapped in the land of the dead. He's surrounded by it, can't escape it, and loses one of his closest friends (his spouse takes the place of Pirithous), but Robby gets him through it in the end.
Now Robby, having done this, returns "home" to the ED, having walked Jack back from the brink. He proceeds to have the shittiest day, which parallels the Madness/Iris curse so well because Robby is definitely not 100% present for the day. There are definitely moments where he is completely tuned out from what it is he's actually doing and just goes through the motions. And then he loses Langdon (Robby's protégé/stand-in son). He loses Jake (not literally, but emotionally), a child that Robby helped raise. He loses a third child when Collins tells him in a roundabout way that she was pregnant with his kid, but had an abortion instead. And then he loses Collins, who fills the role of Megara here, when he sends her home. Heracles had three sons and one wife and was responsible for losing all of them, just like Robby feels responsible (even though he isn't, but that's a different matter).
And so at the end of the season, Robby ends up on the roof. His stethoscope is hung over the railing, which to me is him "hanging it up", and he's clearly in emotional distress and probably suicidal when Jack finds him on the roof.
So what does Jack do when he comes upon his friend who had saved him before? He talks Robby back off the ledge, says screw everything else, you did everything you could and none of this is directly your fault. Even when Robby is adamant that he fucked up, Jack denies him. Then, he walks with Robby, literally stands/sits by his side and sends that clear message to everyone that no matter what they think they heard or saw about Robby's state, Jack is still there, and fuck everybody else if they don't like it.
and don't even get me started on the sun/moon gold/silver thing they have going on, christ.
oh my god what if!!! jack isn't a widower? But he was married to robby who realized one day that oh! life would actually make a lot more sense if she was not a woman! But didn't want to go through the pain of losing jack. Because there is no way his very much straight ex military husband would want to be with a man, right? So he divorced jack right before transitioning?
The first time Robby heard of ass eating it was in the form of a joke, the way gay sex was always talked about in the 90s. He scrunched his nose in disgust and laughed along with everyone else, but the thought lingered. How would that even work? What would it feel like? How horny does someone have to be to even want to do that?
The next time he thinks about it is while watching a porno. He’s only just gotten brave enough to rent gay videos, and his third one features a particularly act…
The man receiving looks like he’s loving it. He’s obnoxiously loud and squirming like he’s about to explode. Robby knows stuff like that is exaggerated in these types of movies, but his intrigue is sparked regardless.
He thinks about it every time he hooks up with a guy, but he’s never brave enough to ask. No one asks him to do it either, so he thinks maybe it’s one of those things that doesn’t really exist outside of videos and crude jokes.
But then the age of the internet comes and with it a LOT more videos with “rimming” in the title. Some of them are clearly shot in the actor’s bedrooms with the camera propped somewhere, but even then the men receiving are absolutely loving it, and Robby is sure they don’t have a director in their ear telling them to amp it up.
Still, Robby doesn’t dare ask anyone to do it for him. Instead, on nights alone, he soaks his thumb in lube and does his best to imagine it.
That is until he starts dating a certain nigh shift attending.
It's hardly the first time he and Jack have had sex, but Robby is always desperate for it. He's wiggling needily under Jack's weight, kissed breathless and ready to be fucked brainless when Jack asks:
"Can I eat you out?"
Robby can't always trust himself at a time like this, so he asks Jack to repeat that.
The grin that spreads across Jack's face only ever means he's up to no good. "Can I eat you out?" He asks again, slower.
"You know I've got a dick, Jack."
"Mhm." Jack nuzzles against the growing bulge in Robby's boxers. "And I adore him, but tonight I want to give your backdoor some lovin'."
"Why do you have to say it like that?"
"Come on, Mike," Jack groans. "Yes or no? Please say yes."
Robby thinks about all the nights he dreamed of it. "Isn't that kinda gross?"
"Were you not planning on getting fucked tonight?" Robby looks at him like he's stupid, and Jack laughs in response. "Exactly. You're nice and ready for me; why would it be gross?"
It's tempting. So fucking tempting. "Are you sure?"
"I have been jerking off to the thought of it longer than we've been dating," Jack admits. "Please. If you don't like it, I'll stop. You know I will."
Unbelievably tempting...
Which is how Robby ends up on his back with his knees hooked over Jack's shoulders. He can't count the number of times he's been naked around Jack, but this is more vulnerable than anything they've done before. It doesn't help that Robby is completely nude while Jack has everything but his shoes on.
He's never seen Jack's eyes like this. He looks hungry. It's as if Robby isn't even there; his focus is entirely on the ass in front of him. Jack holds his cheeks, using his thumbs to make Robby's hole wink for him.
His gaze never leaves the sight in front of him. "You ready?"
"Yeah," Robby says shakily.
That's all Jack needs. He licks a thick stripe along the outside, and Robby's head falls back against the mattress. Jack spreads his cheeks wider and repeats the action over and over until Robby is huffing and squirming, gripping the sheets for some grapple on reality.
The noise that comes out of Jack is akin to a growl. He digs his fingers into Robby's thighs and yanks; he keeps Robby in place despite his wiggling and feasts.
His tongue sinks inside and laps at Robby's walls, pulling more desperate noises out of Robby. Each new sound encourages Jack and rings his own content hums out that vibrate up Robby's spine.
"Jack. Jack!"
Jack pushes down on his thighs, tilting his ass upward and pushing his face impossibly closer. He reaches as far inside Robby as his tongue can reach and uses one finger to rub incessantly at the slit on Robby's tip.
A sharp gasp breaks from Robby. He can't think; he can barely breathe. The only thing he knows is the pleasure Jack is giving him. His hands fly to Jack's hair and tangle themselves in his curls.
It isn't long before Robby is spraying like a fountain over his stomach and Jack's finger, his hole clenching around Jack's tongue.
When his vision finally returns, Jack is on top of him, the fabric of his clothing scraping against Robby's sensitive skin. "I'm gonna assume you liked that."
Robby can't speak. His head nods heavily, eyes still glossy in the afterglow.
"Good," Jack rumbles into his neck. "Because I'm gonna be down there a lot."
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
When things get hard, Jack’s therapist has a habit of reminding him that going back to basics is smart, thoughtful, and kind. Jack’s rarely in the mood to hear it, but he gets it—gets that he has to do the ordinary shit, like drink enough water, if he wants to do the more complicated stuff, like figure out his fucking life. But it’s beyond irritating to have to care about putting actual meals in his face rather than inhaling a bag of Doritos before he crashes into bed at night. Annoying, if he’s honest.
There’s a chance the annoyance is displaced, he grants, but fuck it, he’s feeling his feelings.
Thing is, when Jack looks at Robby, when he sees him trying to find calm and quiet inside himself, enough to get through a shift now his sabbatical’s done, he wants to pass on the advice. Drink some fucking water, man. Go take a leak. Eat more than a protein bar. Does Robby even know what sleep is? The man has his own therapist now, one who’s stuck with it despite Robby’s no-doubt pugilistic attitude, and Jack’s pretty sure the ‘back to basics’ stuff is the kind of thing all therapists cover as a matter of rote. Still, Robby doesn’t seem to be doing any of it. It makes Jack want to climb the walls.
So he does something about it. Makes a point of buying Robby a really great water bottle, with all the mod cons water bottles offer these days, and sticks a label on it that says “use me, you dipshit.” (A similar bottle shows up two days later with a label that says “physician, heal thyself.” Fucking smartass.) Jack starts making himself a meal before he comes on shift, just so that he can put the leftovers in a plastic box and hand it to Robby before he leaves for the night. Robby starts showing up with breakfast in a to-go bag, shoving it in Jack’s hands and holding up a finger when Jack tries to protest.
Jack hates that he doesn’t say anything when Robby holds up that finger, but he’s learned it’s futile to argue, and he was done with being “tsk!”d when he was about nine.
Jack leaves sandwiches in the staff-room fridge, and Robby starts leaving salads, and Jack starts feeling better about the way Robby looks—better fed, more rested, like he’s not about to collapse, dehydrated; like he’s taking care of himself. He enjoys the salads, too, a meal he would never, ever make for himself because of all the faff involved, the ingredients, the fucking choices when it comes to dressing. He’s happy to let Robby do the thinking.
Shifts being what they are, there’s a stretch of three days where they’re both out of the ED, and Jack texts Robby on day two, asks if he wants to go to a game, and they eat more hotdogs than anyone should, and beer is not technically the way to take care of the resulting thirst, but whatever. Robby hoots when there’s a double play and Jack looks over at him, at the way he seems more whole, reaches out to pat his knee out of deep-felt satisfaction, and then just leaves his hand there for reasons that he doesn’t care to delve into too deeply.
Robby looks back at him. “You okay?”
Jack gives him a nod. “I think I am.”
The smile Robby gives him is some kind of pleased-as-punch and maybe even a little smug. He covers Jack’s hand with his own, and then they’re just sitting there, holding hands, watching three shitty pitches in a row, and Jack bumps his shoulder against Robby’s, and Robby bumps his shoulder back.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i always see people saying robby would be a german shepherd or a st bernard and whilst i totally see the vision, i do yearn for border collie/herding dog robby
him watching over and protecting his flock but also having his doting farmer owner (jack) taking care of him
What if a certain former Majority Leader who may or may not be dead had decided to keel over in the vicinity of PTMC?
"Two minutes, Robby."
"No."
"Ok, 90 seconds. You get your head out of your ass long enough to distract the Secret Service agents and I can do it in 60."
"This isn't Name That Tune, Jack."
"No," Jack huffs cheerfully, "this is way more fucking fun."
Robby leans his forehead on the window of the breakroom and prays that Gloria's been too cheap to bug the coffee machine. He wouldn't put it past her. "Murder is fun for you now?" he mutters. "Shit, you think you know a guy--"
"I think murder's a little extreme. It's got more of a Kevorkian edge to it."
"Oh, so this is a mercy mission, huh?"
Jack laughs. "For him?" he says, jabbing his finger in the general direction of their accidental VIP. "Hell no. For this country? Fuckin' A."
"The country? Ok, man. Grandiose much?"
"Dude, come on. Merrick Garland? Let's start there."
"I don't need a history lesson, Jack."
"Apparently you do. Cool. May I remind you that that asshole has lived the last 50 years of his life with the express fucking goal of screwing over anybody who wasn't his buddy so that said buddies--read: fellow assholes--could have free reign to eat this country alive. I mean, the orange one sure as shit wouldn't have gotten in once, much less twice, without he who is currently refusing to die in South 5 jerking off the levers of power."
If he puts his head through the window, will that trigger Workers Comp? Technically, it would be an injury sustained on the job, and there is some poetic justice in equating a ridiculous conversation with Jack Abbot to a slip-and-fall or man vs. forklift.
Robby manages: "That's a mental image I could've lived without."
Jack bounces on his heels, grinning like a maniac. "You're just pissed because you know I'm right about this," he says.
"Right that he's a terrible human being? Yes. Doesn't mean I think homicide's a good idea."
"You saw the EKG. He's already zombied."
"Doesn't matter," Robby shoots back. "You know it doesn't matter, not to those Secret Service agents, for one, and definitely not to a judge. Jesus, Jack! The difference of a few fucking hours isn't worth you spending the rest of your life in jail."
"Oh, I wouldn't get life," Jack says. "Ten, maybe, because it'd be a federal charge, but probably not much more than that."
Robby's mouth is hanging open. He is well aware. "Why--why am I surprised that you've gamed out your possible prison sentence over a hypothetical crime which you haven't actually committed?"
"I don't know." Jack squints up at him. "You shouldn't be. You know me, babe. I'm always prepared."
Please don't let the kitchen appliances be bugged. Please. "For a little casual homicide?" Robby hisses. "Ok. Jesus."
"Well, not every day for that one. This is, like, the definition of a black swan event. Lucky for us he keeled over at the William Penn--and in front of all those old MAGA fuckers, too! Ha! Have you seen the video?"
"No."
Jack lets out a cackle. "Oh, god, it's so good. There are like a million Tik Tok remixes already. Javadi sent me a fuckton of--"
"Jack."
"What?"
He folds his hands around Jack's face, heedless of the window, of their visibility, of everything, for once, except the understanding that Jack can hear so much more clearly when Robby's touching him. "Please," Robby says, "tell me you're not serious about this."
Jack stares up at him, pilot lights still newly struck. "I really, really hate this guy, babe."
"Understandable. He's earned it."
"Like, fuck him."
"100%. In total agreement. All I'm saying, ok, is that I love you and I like having you in my life on this side of the bars and as good as it would feel for you to metaphorically or otherwise pull the fucking plug, I'd like to think that it would feel even better to spend the rest of your life with me."
"You wouldn't come visit me, huh?"
"Not as often as you'd like. I'd be pissed at you, and I'd stay pissed. for, oh, at least the first five years."
"Shit." Long, blunt fingers curl around Robby's wrists. "Definitely no conjugals, then."
"Definitely not. Also not making any promises about your commissary."
"Man," Jack says, "you really know how to make a wholly justified political, um, act of mercy sound a lot less fun than it should be."
"You're welcome."
"I love you too, by the way."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." The manic grin is back, along with waggling eyebrows. "Want me to show you how much? Say, in the supply closet over there?"
"Now? We've got handoff in ten minutes."
"Cool. I only need two."
"Hands or minutes?"
"Follow me close, handsome, and I'll fucking show you."
snowghoul
prguitarman
origamiaround
discoholicmusic
izzy806
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
kianamaiart
germansingergirl
2087
